


Sacrosanct

by Sammybunny711



Series: Stolen Time [2]
Category: The Rifter - Ginn Hale
Genre: Canon Gay Character, Domestic Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 14:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13906116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammybunny711/pseuds/Sammybunny711
Summary: Kahlil spends his "first night" in John's home and finds himself overwhelmed by the experience of being the roommate of the man he's watched over for years.





	Sacrosanct

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR MAJOR thanks to the fantastic [Florianschild](http://archiveofourown.org/users/florianschild) for beta reading, being an amazing encourager, and an all-around swell person. 
> 
> I'm giant nerd and love to geek out on Tumblr. Come find me at [Sammybunn711](https://sammybunny711.tumblr.com/) or my Rifter sideblog Palace of the Day.
> 
> This little one shot is designed to be read after Florianschild's [Heliotrope](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13900890). Enjoy!

Kahlil couldn’t sleep.

Creaks and cracks settled throughout the house--each one a battering ram against his eardrums. Through his locked door, he discerned the limpid drip of the hall bathroom’s faucet. A frigid, uncaring wind set branches scraping against his window. 

_ It’s just the newness of it all _ , he told himself.

Well, perhaps not the place itself. He’d been watching John here for years. But he’d never spent the night in an actual bed here. The novelty charged his nerves with awareness-- sent shivers of anticipation through his bones. No more hiding. 

_ Not as much hiding _ , he corrected.

He’d signed the agreement with John, paid his first share of the rent, and moved his small dufflebag-ful of belongings into the room he now inhabited. It was official. Kahlil was John’s roommate. 

A smile tugged at his scarred cheeks and he gave in to it. Never had he imagined such a perfect situation. He’d hoped for some sort of arrangement like this someday, but this was...nearly too good to be true. It seemed like John would have never sent Bill packing, but he had. Finally.

And now here he was. 

Kahlil closed his eyes and listened harder for other sounds around the house. The light padding of footsteps downstairs proved what he already knew. John was still up. The smile on his lips curled wider. 

A loud  _ bang  _ and a curse drifted up the stairs.

Kahlil sprang from his cot, yanking his curse blade from beneath his pillow, and dashed to the door. His fingers fluttered over his newly installed locks and he opened them slowly one by one. Cracking the door, he peered down the hallway and strained his ears for another sound. 

Nothing.

His fist tightened around the hilt of his black knife as he warred with himself. The quiet stretched on and he exhaled. Apparently there was no immediate threat. He returned the blade to its hiding place. He thought about slipping into the Gray Space to go investigate, but something stopped him. What if John had hurt himself? What if he needed help? 

Kahlil frowned. 

He tiptoed down the stairs and took in the scene before him, lips parting on a breath. John sprawled across the kitchen linoleum, one leg drawn up to his chest, blood peppering the floor and his pant leg. 

“What happened?” Kahlil asked, raising an eyebrow.

Seeing John’s blood felt wrong. Profane.

Blue eyes flicked up and an annoyed expression sat firmly on John’s handsome face as he said, “Tripped. Banged my leg into the corner of the TV table.”

Kahlil blinked at the sight. “Table” was a generous term for the wooden planks supported by cinder blocks. John prodded at the tiny puncture in his flesh that was bleeding quite impressively to be so small. When he pulled a bandaid from his first-aid kit, Kahlil’s mind bloomed with memory. 

John had been a twelve-year-old boy then and Kahlil had only been in Nayeshi a few months. He could still smell the soft scent of sweat in the summer air and hear the cicadas in the trees around the baseball diamond. Kahlil had watched from the treeline as John and his team beat the ever-living daylights out of the other team. Baseball had still been new to him then and he found himself confused by the rules, but it was clear nonetheless, by the smiles on their faces, that the Comets were winning. He remembered John’s toothy grin as he slid into home, bursting open the skin of his palms, arms, and knees on the course red grit. He’d looked a complete mess, but Kahlil could tell John was beaming with pride that his home run won the game. John’s mother had gushed over his victory as she patched him up in the stands with the kit she kept in her purse. 

Now, that boy had become a man. Kahlil’s destroyer god was a grown man built of lean, thick muscle and tanned skin wrapped around Parfir’s destructive power. And there he sat, hunched on the linoleum floor, covering the wounds on his holy flesh with a bandaid. 

Sometimes Kahlil couldn’t help but stare in awe at him and wonder if the world would crumble beneath John’s fingertips someday. 

“Um...you’re kind of staring at me, Kyle. It’s disconcerting.” John’s face had paled considerably.

Kahlil looked away, flushing. “Sorry.”

John stood up and scowled at his knee, then at the offending splintery boards. Kahlil wondered if John would splurge on a TV stand now that his version had wounded him and he also had the second half of the rent in full. 

A strange silence fell between them--not unlike the pervasive quiet of the Gray Space. Kahlil struggled to keep his eyes off John’s tired face and limp curls. 

“What are you doing up so late?” Kahlil asked.

He’d assumed John would have slept peacefully knowing he finally had a roommate. Something else must be on his mind.

John frowned. “Homework. You? Don’t you have an early start?”

Right. Kahlil was supposed to be a milkman. He laughed softly, tugging at strands of his black braid that had come loose. “Yeah, I suppose I do. I just heard the noise and thought I should check to make sure things were okay.”

“Oh.”

The ticking of a cheap wall clock above the kitchen cabinets drew Kahlil’s gaze and he wasn’t surprised to see it was after midnight. 

“Well, anyway, I should probably get to bed,” John said, snagging a hand through his blonde waves.

“Yeah, me, too.”

Kahlil turned to the stairs and stepped up once, pausing over the second stair. This was only the second conversation he’d ever had with John. He didn’t want it to end before it had even begun, but what else was there to talk about? He closed his eyes and sighed. Felt the pulse of their bond thrum through his blood. 

There would be many more days. More conversations. Kahlil was John’s roommate now. 

They had nothing but time. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
